


Badges And Deals

by Hekate1308



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, M/M, Mafia boss!Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-04 23:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 20,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16799458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: Fergus Crowley, mafia boss and intent on staying out of prison at all costs, has to admit he is intrigued when he learns agent Dean Winchester has been put on his case - the man is already a legend, and Crowley could do with a bit of a challenge.The problem is that Winchester turns out to be rather more attractive than he thought he would.A Drowley Christmas Calendar





	1. Chapter 1

**October**

Fergus Crowley, the uncrowned King of the city, as one newspaper once poetically called him before he put a stop to their quite frankly a little too honest reporting, has rarely been surprised in his life. It’s one of the prizes that comes with being at top of everything and everyone, and quite frankly, from what he can remember from his earlier life, he didn’t like the sensation much to begin with.

Therefore, while he might be slightly curious as to who the FBI put on his case now that Viktor Henriksen is… indisposed (but not dead; Crowley respects any clever men, always has), he certainly didn’t anticipate being surprised when he hears the name.

Dean Winchester. He was one of the most legendary agents the Bureau had ever produced; if Crowley remembers correctly, the first time he heard his name, he was put on a list with Eliot Ness.

The last thing he knew, he was doing undercover work far away from here.

Oh well.

Dean Winchester might be a second Eliot Ness, but Crowley has never thought much of Al Capone. Only an amateur would allow his taxes to get in the way of his plans.

Still, this could be… interesting.

He immediately orders one of his minions to create a file on Dean Winchester. Better to be prepared. Every agent has his own little tricks up his sleeve; the sooner he knows all about his, the better.

He still has to admit that he’s glad he only opens that night at his place, a glass of Craig in front of him.

Dean Winchester is rather more dashing than he has any right to be; certainly, more handsome than whoever it is who plays James Bond at the moment.

He studies the picture. A man like that could easily have become a model or an actor, and he certainly isn’t inconspicuous when walking down the street; how he hasn’t been made yet, Crowley has no idea.

If circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to invite him to his bed.

As it is, alas, he’ll have to deal with him in quite another matter.

If it comes to that.

He’ll have to wait and see how good he actually is, first.

* * *

As it turns out, Dean Winchester is quite as adept at his job as people made him out to be. Crowley is having dinner in his favourite restaurant – there was nothing quite like putting the fear of God into a Chef once and being sure of perfectly prepared meals ever since – when someone simply sat down in front of him.

Quite frankly, this doesn’t happen. Whenever someone gets to close, Simmons and Paulson are usually too quick for them, and they are never heard from again.

When he looks up, however, he meets the green eyes of Dean Winchester, and decides the picture didn’t do him justice.

He quickly waves his body guards away. This should be interesting.

“Mr. Crowley.”

“Dean Winchester.”

He betrays no surprise at being names so easily, but then, why would he? “I just wanted to introduce myself. No use starting ab game without knowing the players, wouldn’t you say?”

“I couldn’t agree more” he says smoothly.

He actually reaches out to shake his hand, and Crowley does so. A firm and warm grip.

Yes, this man should be an advisory to be reckoned with.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, agent?”

He raises an eyebrow as he studies him. Oh. Crowley didn’t see that coming, although he probably should have.

Winchester likes what he’s seeing, too.

Again, what a pity that they’re on different sides.

“No, not for now. I have to get the evidence first”. He grins a rather boyish grin. “Of course I have already spoken to your mother and son –“

Crowley stamps down the fury he feels to be reasonably impressed. He’s been careful to erase all traces of their relationship, and apparently Winchester still found them within a matter of days. “So?”

“Yes. Always find the other guy’s weak spots, that’s my moto.”

Their eyes meet once more.

“And if he doesn’t happen to have any?” he asks lightly.

“Everyone ahs them, Mr. Crowley. They may be well hidden, but they’re always there. That’s what makes us human.”

“I have been called a demon in my time, agent.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, heard all about that. Heard about Viktor, too. He’s doing well, by the way.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He’s not even lying. The world needs upstanding men like Viktor Henriksen –although he’s never had any use for them.

“Well then. Now that we know each other – enjoy your meal.” Dean grins once more and is gone in the next second.

Well, that was interesting.

Seems like for the first time in ages, the game is on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a slight confusion, my friends - first chapter takes place in October, and this one takes place in December. Sorry. Enjoy!

**December**

Dean Winchester, Crowley has to admit to himself, is not just interesting.

He is also a damn nuisance.

How can a man who was just put on his case in the middle of October seriously inconvenience him two months later?

And yet that’s exactly what happened. He can barely dip his toe into any illegal activity these days without the agent being sure to show up, ready to throw a spanner in the works.

And the most annoying part about it is that Crowley finds it rather exhilarating.

His aides don’t think so. Simmons keeps begging for a chance to take Winchester out, but first of all he doesn’t trust her to be fast enough – God knows Winchester must have gotten out of enough scrapes by now – and second of all –

Well it would just be a shame to waste that pretty face.

Not that anything can or will happen.

And yet…

Somehow Crowley likes this world a little better with Dean Winchester in it.

Like he stated before, it’s a bloody nuisance.

It’s the third week of November when it happens. He’s just walking down the street, as always accompanied by his guards, when Asmodeus’ men grab him.

* * *

Really, he thinks when he comes to, this is Asmodeus’ problem. No sense for business. No elegance. Just kidnapping a rival off the street? It’s so banal, downright pathetic even. Where’s the romance? The clever plot? The fun of it all?

“Crowley.”

He looks straight into the other gang leader’s eyes. “Sorry. I seem to have forgotten your name –“

He punches him in the face. Crowley has already started working on his coughs; he assumes he’ll be out of here in five minutes if it all goes to plan. Seven with only minor injuries if it doesn’t. “Shut up.”

“What is it?” he asks mildly.

“The city has been in your hand for long enough” Asmodeus declares. “People know there are options, and they’ve had enough of you.”

As if that means anything. Crowley is used to being loathed.

“So?”

“What do you mean? I can offer them –“

Crowley sees movement in the corner of his eye and somehow, he knows exactly what it is.

Who it is.

He clears his throat. “Say, weren’t you the one who ordered that hit on Agent Lafitte a year back?” He just has a feeling that’s the right thing to say.

“You are well informed, I will give you that. Yes. He was starting to –“

“Doesn’t matter what he was starting to do” Dean Winchester says roughly, stepping up to them. “He was a friend.”

Asmodeus eyes widen as he turns around. “How did you – my –“

“I am afraid they are rather… indisposed” Dean Winchester says, smiling grimly, and Crowley realizes he really can’t say whether that means he knocked them or that they are dead.

How fascinating.

Asmodeus makes the mistake of trying to attack.

A second later, he’s lying on the floor, a bullet between his eyes.

“Now, Mr. Crowley, aren’t you quite a sight all tied up” Winchester says, but before he can move to free him, Crowley has got up and gives him the cuffs.

“Consider it payment for services rendered.”

Winchester chuckles. “Oh well. If you want to put it that way… Let’s get out of here.”

Asmodeus’ people have indeed been knocked out rather than killed, but to his surprise Crowley doesn’t mind. Winchester’s car is parked a few streets away – it’s a beautiful ‘67 Impala, and he marvels at the risk of taking it with him on a mission. Not that he tells him, obviously.

Winchester drives him to one of the mansions he could have sworn where off the books.

“Agent” he says after they arrive. They are both looking straight ahead.

“Yes?”

“Not that I mind, or that I couldn’t have handled it myself, but… why?”

And Winchester turns those mesmerizing eyes to him. “Like I said, Benny was a friend… but so’s Viktor. You could have had him killed so easily instead of just maimed a bit.”

It was more than a bit, but he doesn’t seem too concerned.

“In this job, you better learn to differentiate between bastards, and don’t get me wrong… you’re a mean son of a bitch on a good day, but at least you’re honourable about it.”

Crowley understands. He nods.

Neither of them has to make a point of this being off the record.

Just like Crowley knows that the cuffs were just a joke. The agent who’s after him just saved his life. There is no way around it; he has to admit that a simple thank you and being more careful so Winchester’s reputation won’t get damaged won’t cut it.

He owes Dean Winchester a favour.

It has been a long time since anything like that happened.


	3. Chapter 3

**December**

He hasn’t been beholden to anyone in so long he almost welcomes the sensation. It’s something new, at least, and almost exciting.

Although he can’t say for certain how much this has to do with it being Dean Winchester who saved his life.

And got rid of Asmodeus as well. Granted, he was never a match for him, but it is nonetheless good to know he’s gone.

Crowley highly doubts anything would happen to the agent even if the FBI ever learned the truth. He was clearly the victim, and Dean saved his life.

Still –

Yes, he’ll keep quiet about it until it can become useful.

But that may take a while.

Best lie low and see how things work out.

* * *

The first chance he gets to at least repay part of his debt comes not even two weeks later. It’s Christmas Eve, but Crowley has never paid much attention to the celebrations of others.

Why should he, when so much more interesting things are happening, for example Arthur Ketch deciding to try and infiltrate the city.

He’s met the British bastard before. He tried to forge an alliance, not realizing that for one, Crowley doesn’t work with partners, and second of all, he decided to do so, the last one he’d choose would be Ketch.

Even his ties are tacky.

Still, he’s apparently here to stay – or would like to be.

Well…

He takes one of his burn phones out of the drawer he keeps them in. Untraceable, of course.

Dean Winchester’s phone number – the one of his desk, anyway – is in the file Simmons compiled for him.

Only when it rings does he realize he’ll likely not be in on a day like – “Hello?”

“Agent Winchester” he says smoothly, hiding his surprise. As far as he knows, Dean Winchester is rather close to his younger brother. He always takes careful notes on pressure points.

“Mr. Crowley! What a surprise!”

He waits. This is another turning point; Dean could call in the technician, have the phone traced, do whatever he –

Instead there’s a click. “The connection is secure.”

Lying to him would be very stupid. And inadmissible in court once his lawyers would be done with it.

“I have a name for you.”

They both know it won’t be enough to repay his debt. Information is one thing, but it’s not worth his life.

It’s a beginning, however.

“Yes?” Winchester sounds calm and collected, but Crowley doesn’t doubt that he’s ready to spring into actions within moments if necessary.

“Arthur Ketch. Came over from London a short time ago. Wants to make a name for himself.”

“And I assume you don’t want him to.”

“I am not admitting to anything, I am just offering a name.”

“I’m aware”. After a pause, he adds, “Thank you. How’s the head?”

He can’t recall the last time someone inquired after his health in a non-sarcastic manner. “Much better.”

“Good to hear. Thank you for the call, Mr. Crowley. Merry Christmas.”

“My pleasure, agent.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, “Happy Holidays.”

As he hangs up, he notices with astonishment that he did actually like to talk to him.

Dear God, what is it about agent Winchester?

* * *

Within a week of his phone call, Ketch is behind bars. One nuisance less, really. Well, two, if he counts Asmodeus.

So far, Winchester has done him quite a few favours, even if he’s still inconveniencing him.

**January**

One evening shortly after New Years, the burn phone ion his desk rings. He doesn’t know what to expect – precious few people have this number to begin with.

When he answers, Winchester asks without preamble, “You’re not responsible for the influx in cheap heroin recently, are you? My boss insists on it, but –“

“I never make deals involving drugs.” Never is a slight exaggeration; there was a time, years ago, when he was a little too fond of them and risked everything in the process. He won’t make that mistake again.

“Just wanted to make sure.”

Why Winchester believes him, he has no idea. He does, however.

When that evening, he figures out that Alastair is behind it, he sends him a text.

* * *

He’s having a glass of Craig in a bar a couple of days later when once again, Winchester takes place next to him without his body guards even having noticed him approach. “We got them.”

“I am glad to hear it”.

Dean flashes him a grin. “We’ll get you too eventually.”

“That’s a rather less pleasant prospect.”

At least when he thinks of being arrested. Now, if Winchester meant it in a anoter way… “May I offer you a drink, agent?”

“What? You think I accept bribes from mob bosses?”

But he’s still smiling.

He’s enjoying this, Crowley realizes, the thrill of the chase, the fact that they are playing cat and mouse.

“Ah, you know what, why not? But make it the good stuff.”

If only, Crowley thinks, he didn’t happen to be on the wrong side.


	4. Chapter 4

**January**

This time, he really is annoyed.

All he wanted to organise was a string of robberies. There was no need to get snappy and arrest half the crew before anything could happen, like Winchester just did.

He’s partly angry because this did occur, and because those who got caught were foolish enough to leave evidence behind. At least his name will not be mentioned. He’s made sure of that.

And yet –

How dare this green-eyed menace throw a spanner in the works? Does he really think the banks need all that money?

He blinks and registers he’s got his burn phone in his hand. The one Dean has the number to.

Dear God. He can’t call him and complain – that would be evidence against him. He shakes his head at himself.

And then the phone rings.

That’s Winchester’s desk number.

He really shouldn’t pick up, so naturally he does. The trouble is that, while his instincts keep reminding him he should stay far away, there are other things at place that clearly wish he could see him again.

“Any chance you could confess?” Winchester opens without preamble. “Would make my life a hell of a lot easier. My supervisor is starting to think I am obsessed with you”.

Incidentally, Crowley is beginning to believe that Winchester’s supervisor is an idiot. “Sorry but I would hardly incriminate myself in a simple phone call, even if I were guilty.”

Winchester laughs. “You sounded so indignant, even I almost believed you.”

“That’s the point, agent.”

“Ah Mr. Crowley, what would I do without our phone calls?”

And paradoxically, unbelievably, Crowley realizes that Dean Winchester called him to make himself feel better.

He can’t say anyone has ever done this before. Certainly not his mother, and his son… That’s complicated.

“Anyway what am I supposed to confess to, anyway?” he asks, to make sure he sounds especially confused even though Dean already knows he isn’t.

“Now wouldn’t you like to know”.

“That’s why I ask.”

“And has anyone ever answered such a question?”

Several people, in fact. Officers of the law are usually bound to get cocky after a while, and Crowley has tricked his fair share of them.

Not that he thinks it will be easy when it comes to Winchester. And he certainly doesn’t want him even a little maimed like Henricksen. It would be a shame. That pretty face must not be compromised.

“You know what, I don’t want an answer. I can just imagine.” His impression of Dean Winchester being one of the most intelligent people he had ever met was solidified. “Anyway, you alright?”

“What?”

“That’s what acquaintances do when they call. Small talk. So, everything okay?”

This is downright bizarre. He takes a deep breath. He isn’t going to let Dean Winchester confuse him – at least not more than he has already done. “Yes, thank you.”

“Glad to hear it.” A pause. “I would hate for that to change, Mr. Crowley.”

Ah. A warning. Dean Winchester is trying to help him. “Me too.”

“In that case, you should probably be on the look out. There are many bad apples out there. And some of them may be closer than you think.”

A mole, then. In his own gang. Planted by a rival, otherwise Winchester wouldn’t warn him about it. “I can only agree.”

“Good day, then.”

“And to you.”

As he hangs up, he realizes that, if Winchester should be right, he’ll be even more in his debt than he already is.

He gets out his file. He needs more information on the agent. God knows he’s been paying him enough attention. It’s time he becomes a top priority.

After he takes care of the “bad apple.”

**February**

He should have known it was Simmons from the beginning. She’s always hated him, but then, so do most members of his organization, so how was he to know she’d go run to Lucifer to try and get rid of him?

Well, that’s taken care of, at least.

It doesn’t mean Lucifer is done creating problems for him, however, since two days later, Winchester and another agent visit him.

“Hello Mr. Crowley, I’m agent Dean Winchester, this is Rufus Turner, FBI.”

Huh. Dean Winchester really must be up high in the chain. Rufus Turner is a legend.

“Yes?”

“We have to regret to inform you that one of your employees was found dead this morning…”

Damn it. Lucifer’s men must have got the body out of its hiding place.

Dean knows exactly what happened, he can tell. It’s the sparkle in those damn eyes.

And Turner at least suspects. Of course he does.

“OH no. Which one?”

And so they continue to play an act.

Although Crowley is starting to wonder if it’s really just for Turner’s benefit that they do.


	5. Chapter 5

**March**

Things, Crowley has always felt, have a way to suddenly take a turn towards the ridiculous if he doesn’t let them know who’s boss, and he’s rather afraid that’s what’s happening right now.

Taking stock, he owes his life to a FBI agent – twice; an agent who has not yet used that knowledge to demand anything from him, pretends that he isn’t in regular contact with the very mafia boss he’s supposed to catch in front of his colleagues; and still has the very irritating habit of spontaneously showing up wherever Crowley happens to be.

Well. Two can play that game.

Time to let Dean Winchester know he won’t be bossed around.

While it’s easier to let his minions assemble information, it tends to be more accurate when he does the work himself, as he well knows.

And so he starts working.

That younger brother of his… as stated before, he always takes care to know all about his opponent’s pressure points.

Even if he has never quite had an opponent as intriguing as Dean Winchester.

Let’s see.

Sam Winchester, lawyer, Stanford graduate (it seems the whole family does not only have good looks, but the brains to make it far) and –

Ah. Recently engaged.

Now isn’t that interesting.

Being engaged means having a bachelor party, at least Dean Winchester doesn’t seem the kind of man to say no to any chance of celebration.

So he’s most likely organizing the whole thing.

Now, when is the wedding supposed to be, he wonders…

* * *

The party, if Dean says so himself, is awesome. Sam is well and properly trashed and happy, one of the reasons Sarah made Dean promise that no, he wouldn’t do the stag night right before the wedding – his baby brother never could hold his liquor that well and he’ll have three whole days to recuperate now – and all their friends are having a great time too.

And then his instincts kick in. Someone is watching them, he can tell. Someone is sitting in the shadows, observing the proceedings…

He could just dismiss it as paranoia, of course. But Dean didn’t become one of the best agents the Bureau has ever had by ignoring his instincts.

And then a voice he knows all too well because it has featured in several of his last few high-profile cases and admittedly in some ill-advised fantasies says, “May I congratulate you on your brother’s approaching nuptials?”

Dean takes a deep breath and a moment to survey the room. Right now, Sammy is rather far away from him – good; so are most of their guests; also good; he could have done without the random strangers in the room, but he can spot at least three exits, as he out of habit made sure when they entered.

And he’s sure he can Crowley in a fight.

“If you are here to threaten my brother” he says as Crowley sits down on the stool next to him, “I’m going to shoot you between the eyes and claim self defence.”

“Of course you would, but don’t you think it’s rather insulting you don’t think I am armed as well?”

Of course Crowley is armed, invariably so, Dean’s sure.

“You don’t know how fast I am with a firearm” he replies calmly.

“Oh I do happen to have seen the results of your last test, agent. I always collect information about my opponents.”

And his business partners, and his potential lovers, and his minions. That’s one of the reasons Crowley is so damn dangerous, and so damn interesting at the same time. Most of those mafia bosses get cocky with time, make mistakes. Crowley never has, and Dean is starting to suspect he never will.

“How good to know”.

“I just thought I’d show you that you’re not the only one who can spontaneously pop up. You did cause my body guards quite a bit of distress, you know.”

Dean snorts; if they were distressed, it was because they knew what Crowley would do to them for having overlooked him. “If you say so, Mr. Crowley. Drink?”

“Oh allow me. It’s your brother’s party, after all.”

He’s got good taste in alcohol, Dean will admit that.

“So you visit many parties of unsuspecting FBI Agents?”

“Not really. Only those of the very special ones.”

Their eyes meet. And that right there is why Dean has had those decidedly inappropriate fantasies. There’s something exhilarating about a guy who finally challenges you.

An arm drapes across his shoulders and to his shame, he flinches. He didn’t hear Sammy coming.

“Dean!” he whines. “It’s my party, you’re supposed to celebrate with me, not flirt!” Or at least he says something like that: As stated before, he’s hammered and Dean can’t help but feel thankful that he won’t remember this in the morning.

He’s about to reply when he glances at Crowley’s stool.

It’s empty.


	6. Chapter 6

Like Dean hoped, Sammy doesn’t remember anything other from his meeting with Crowley last night than the apparently hilarious fact that he „struck out“, which – fine. He’d rather that he think that than anything else.

Because now it’s personal.

He should have known, really. Someone like Crowley wasn’t going to take Dean sneaking up on him all the time lying down.

And now he’s come and proven he can just as easily infiltrate one of Dean’s party as the agent himself has shown up at his meals.

He bites back a curse as he takes care of Sammy’s hangover. Thank God he didn’t get drunk last night.

That’s how they got Benny. He grew too sure of himself, in the end. Dean warned him, but there was only so much he could do.

The first thing he’ll do when he comes back from his holidays, having Sammy and Sarah sent off to their honeymoon, is make damn sure the guy knows his family is off limits. Not by threatening his family in turn; there has to be some difference between them and the mob, and he doubts just how attached Crowley is to them all anyway (although he has the feeling he cares more for his son than he lets on); no, they’ll have another chat.

* * *

He expects Dean Winchester to make contact soon after his brother’s wedding. He made a statement when he showed up at the bachelor party, and now the agent has to react. Not officially, of course, and not in any way that would endanger the investigation he’s leading; no, he’s too smart for that even though he seems utterly attached to his brother.

But still.

And react he does.

Crowley comes home to his favourite mansion last night, trying to convince himself that he’s not disappointed that Dean Winchester didn’t show up at his office; but when he turns on the light in the living room, there he is, sipping a glass of Craig.

“I see you’ve made yourself quite comfortable” he says.

“Oh yes. Like I said, you’ve got good taste when it comes to certain things. Others, not so much.” He is silent for a moment. Then he continues, “I’m only going to say this once, so you better listen. Sammy and my sister-in-law are absolutely off limits. I don’t care what you try to do to me, but don’t you dare –“

“Please. Never a hair on their precious heads.”

Winchester studies him. “Not sure if I believe you, but this will have to do, I guess.”

Crowley poured himself a drink, studying the bottles – he’s taken certain precautions, and if he shouldn’t be as good as everyone says he is after all…

“Oh don’t think I took one of those you tinkered with in case someone unsavoury ever comes to visit – I’m a professional, you know.”

He didn’t expect he would but it’s still nice to be proven right.

He sits down across from Winchester. “So visiting your brother’s stag night was the last straw?”

“No, it as a statement, and this is mine, and we both know that.”

He toasts him. “I guess so.”

Winchester smirks. “Seems like we’ve reached a stalemate.”

“Oh no right now we are just two rivals having a friendly drink.” After a pause he adds, “Would you mind terribly to tell me how you came in? I thought I had secured the building rather well.”

“You did but there are always one or two cracks. You just have to know how to slip through them.”

Of course that’s all the answer he can expect, but still. “A tip, then?”

To his surprise, Winchester laughs and answers, “I’m a pretty good climber.”

“Ah, definitely the squirrel then.”

“What?”

“Your brother is the moose.”

“Does that make you Boris? And your dear mother would be Natasha then, I presume?”

He raises an eyebrow.

Winchester empties his glass. “Well, that’s all then. Goodnight, Mr. Crowley.”

He leaves.

* * *

Well that certainly… raised the stakes.

The last person to enter his house without Crowley being aware of it simply got lucky, and was quickly dealt with. If he had tried the same with Winchester today, there is every possibility the outcome would have been rather different.

At the very least, he would have put up a good fight, that is for sure.

Quite a demonstration of power, really. Crowley should resent it but can’t; he’s always respected those who can look after themselves and threaten others while doing so – and Winchester is so very different from the other agents he’s been in contact with over the years.

And then, of course, there is this other small thing. 

The problem with it all, Crowley reflects, is that he is more than a little used to dealing with adversaries.

But he’s not used to wanting them. 


	7. Chapter 7

**April**

Crowley doesn’t want things he can’t have. For the simple reason that he invariably gets what he wants.

Which makes it all the more irritating that, when it comes to Dean Winchester, there’s nothing g he can do about it. Of course he could try to seduce him, but what would be the point? No FBI agent would dare start an affair with someone lie him. Apart from the risk involved, it would be downright stupid, and Dean Winchester, sadly, isn’t stupid. Otherwise Crowley wouldn’t want him to begin with. Which would mean he wouldn’t have to worry about all of this in the first place, but still.

The again…

FBI agents usually don’t keep contact with their target, do they? Not the way he and Dean do, at any rate.

He looks down at the latest text he received. _How dare you have your taxes in order!_

**As a law-abiding citizen it is my duty to ensure I pay them.**

The answer to that was nothing like an emoji, and he’s too old to stare at his phone like a teenager and hope he can read the feelings of his crush through a picture.

He’s not surprised they went through his taxes. That was how they got that amateur Al Capone, and Dean would make sure to cover all his bases. He probably didn’t expect to find anything anyway.

He’s too clever for that.

If only he weren’t. If he was just another pretty face who slept his way through the top –

But now, he has to actually be a capable agent who could become dangerous if Crowley isn’t careful.

And that’s the worst part of it. He’s not even annoyed by wanting Dean Winchester and at the same time having to make sure he never finds any evidence of his work.

Everything’s much to exhilarating for that. Powerful as he is, he’ll admit he used to grow bored now and then; not anymore. Not since Dean Winchester showed up and decided to try and make his life hell and then… didn’t.

On the contrary. He saved his life and he regularly shows up to talk to him and texts him, and it’s all so new. Different. Interesti8ng.

All the other agents Crowley has met over the years… they were easily dealt with. Henrickson was the one who came closest to have a case against him, and Lafitte might have turned out to be a danger if circumstances hadn’t prevented him from trying to take a shot.

But Dean Winchester… he’s the first threat, the first real threat, that has presented itself in years, and that alone would be enough to capture Crowley’s attention.

And the aforementioned intelligence and good looks do little to his curb fascination.

God, if only Dean Winchester wasn’t on the side of the angels. They things they could achieve together…

And he saved Crowley’s life when he didn’t have to, just because he apparently wanted to. Every other person he knows, and that includes his son and his mother, would gladly throw him under the bus.

Dean Winchester didn’t. Granted, his explanation that he apparently sees something good in Crowley is ridiculous – he doesn’t have a good bone in his body, never had.

And now he’s still beholden to him months later.

It should be annoying. Part of him knows that it’s annoying.

And yet- And yet.

Being beholden means he’ll see Dean Winchester again, or he’ll call him and demand information – either way it means they’ll still be talking.

Good God, he really needs to find a way out of this.

* * *

Thing is, Dean knows what he’s doing is insane.

Benny (as always there’s a slight stab at the thought of him) would chew him out, that’s for sure. _What are you doing, brother. Your case almost solved itself by the guy being murdered, and you go and rescue him? What for? He’s a mafia boss. They’re all the same._

Trouble is, Crowley isn’t. Even after he showed up at Sam’s stag night, he didn’t make any move to threaten someone Dean cares for.

And he didn’t have Viktor killed.

Or try to have Dena dealt with. That’s the biggest surprise. Sure, he might owe him his life, but criminals aren’t exactly known for their fairness when it comes to things like that.

And yet Crowley has helped him out on several occasions. And that thing with Sam was a demonstration of power more than anything else, like Dean’s later visit at his house.

If only he weren’t so attractive. Evil he can deal with, being a scumbag is fine, but who gave the guy the permission to be hot?

And it’s not like Dean can get him into his bed and out of his system. He’s pretty sure his supervisor would have to say something about that.

He sighs and forbids himself from ending Crowley more messages.

He keeps the promise for a whole week.


	8. Chapter 8

**April**

“I don’t care how you ruined this, I want to know what you’ve been doing to fix it“ Crowley snarls into his phone before almost throwing it across the room. He thinks better of it just in time. This is not a moment to despair. It’s a moment to act.

If Winchester finds the shipment, he’ll put him away, and aside from all other inconveniences, it would mean seeing less of the agent than he has in the past few weeks.

He dashes off.

Crisis dealt with, he’s relaxing in his living room that night, sipping a glass of Craig, when he gets a text.

_Almost got you this time :)_

There’s only one person it could be from, and he finds it rather annoying that his heart starts picking up a beat as he reads it. It’s never done that before, not when it comes to other people, and it’s a rather concerning development. It’ll have to stop.

Maybe not just now, however.

* * *

Dean didn’t expect a reply, so he probably shouldn’t be surprised when he gets one. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Crowley, it’s that the guy always does the unexpected.

**I am sure I don’t know what you mean.**

Naturally he wouldn’t fall for such a rookie trick, but it’s still nice he texted back.

_Then I won’t say it._

It wasn’t Crowley who screwed up today – Dean would have been surprised if it had – but instead one of his minions, who got the times wrong and therefore almost, almost allowed them to lay hands on a shipment of very illegal goods. Not drugs, of course – never drugs; he guesses there must be some history behind that since most mafia bosses don’t care whether they are ruining people’s lives.

Point is, they almost got Crowley today. Even his supervisor told Dean he’d done an excellent job and that in the end, it had just been bad luck.

Trouble is, Dean has been in an exceptionally good mood ever since he realized it wasn’t happening, he even had to hide it from his colleagues.

And so he’s been pretending to himself that this wasn’t because he enjoys their cat-and-mouse game a little too much.

It’s just been so long since he’s had a challenge, and Crowley is providing a worthy one.

Yep, Benny would definitely have to say something about this.

**You better not or I shall sue you for slander.**

That’s just it – with anyone else, this would be an idle threat, but when it comes to Crowley, not only would he probably do it, but there’s a good chance he would actually win if he tried.

And damn it if it’s not the most exciting thing that has happened to him in a while.

Sammy would roll his eyes and tell him he’s an adrenaline junkie, but Sammy’s not here right now, and besides, he knows better than to ask him for advice on this.

Than to ask anyone, really.

_It’s a good thing I didn’t say it, then._

**Exactly, and don’t you forget it.**

They are definitely flirting now to, which should make him feel worried but doesn’t, which in turn does.

Ugh. Why do the hot ones all have to be taken, not interested, or evil?

* * *

The day after their close call, the minion is dismissed from his organization. If he were higher up, Crowley would make sure he retire permanently, but he doesn’t know enough to become dangerous, and it’s always good to have someone tell the world how dangerous and threatening one can be. It keeps people on their toes.

He doesn’t expect any reaction to the news, but at the end of the day, his phone chimes.

_That was nice of you._

He knows what he’s talking about, of course, and is debating whether or not to reply when the text alert rings out again.

_Dinner?_

Crowley is incredibly aware that he should say no, that it may well be a trap, that Winchester has noticed he’s attracted to him and is doing his best to use that to his advantage.

Very aware indeed.

They meet up an hour later.

* * *

Crowley is impressed; the small restaurant is exactly the kind of place he would have picked for a secret rendezvous – or just a dinner between business acquaintance, as it is.

The one thing he wasn’t prepared fro was the sight of Dean Winchester in jeans and a t-shirt. It seems most unfair that he should look quite as dashing as he does in a suit.

He greets him with a nod and a grin. “Wasn’t sure you were coming.”

“Good. I like to be unpredictable.”

Winchester chuckles.

Crowley had some half-formed expectation that there’s something he needs, but instead they just… make small talk as they wait for their food. And it’s not even boring.

Dear God.

He’s about to ask when suddenly Winchester’s eyes slide off him and into the shadows. “I don’t believe this.”


	9. Chapter 9

**April**

“What is it?“ he asks immediately. If something is dangerous enough to rattle Dean Winchester, it must indeed be quite something.

“Behind you” he hisses, his eyes never leaving his target.

Crowley decides it’s best to catch a glance at the window in front of him and sees the reflection of –

“Tell me that’s not Cranmer.”

Crowley would, only that it would be a lie, and that Dean is very aware of that fact.

“You really have wonderful taste in restaurants.”

“Thanks, Einstein, but that doesn’t help us now.”

No, he supposes it doesn’t.

Cranmer. One of the biggest human traffickers on the east coast.

Crowley himself has always stayed away from human trafficking. The cargo is too noisy, for one thing.

“That’s our chance” Dean says. His eyes still haven’t left Cranmer, but he’s doing a good job at hiding it.

“What do you mean _our_? You are the agent here?”

“And you owe me” he says, glancing at him then back at Cranmer. “Have you forgotten that already?”

He sighs. “No. But if I help you, we’re even”.

“I assume there’s no use in appealing to your better nature and hoping you’ll do it out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Even assuming I had any, that would be quite a lot to ask, don’t you think?”

“Was worth a try” Dean grins. “Well then, how about it? Want to get even?”

It’s a tempting offer, and he’s never liked Cranmer much anyway. Oh, he’s made a few deals with him, but that’s it.

And it doesn’t look like there are going to be any more. “Alright. Let’s go.”

* * *

Of all the things Crowley expected to happen tonight, him joining the cause of the angels, and may it be only for a few short moments, wasn’t one of them.

It’s almost sort of fun, if he’s being honest. He and Dean are sneaking after Cranmer, the agent moving with the swift, elegant movements of a puma following its prey.

It’s exhilarating just to watch.

“We’ll have to be careful. Can’t imagine him being the type not to have a body guard or two.”

“I don’t have mine around, today.”

“I noticed. What was that about? Are we getting cocky?”

“Not in the least.”

“Too bad.” Even in the darkness, he can see Dean’s grin. “Would have made my job easier.”

Sometimes it’s too easy to forget that technically Dean has to arrest him.

“Alright. Plan of attack is –“

“Crowley. How interesting. Are we working with the FBI, now?”

Of course he would notice they were following him. Crowley may never have liked the man, but he always considered him clever.

“That said, I can see the appeal.” He grins at Dean and now it’s official – Crowley wants him dead.

“Yeah well” Dean says casually, “You’re under arrest.”

“Oh no, what am I going to do –

Crowley is the first to act. With a few practiced movements, he’s in his personal space and kneels him in the groin while going for his weapon at the same time.

It’s not over immediately, of course. Cranmer is nothing if not resilient and ready to fight for his freedom, but Dean and Crowley working together turn out to be a force of nature. Not that he thought otherwise.

Once they have him cuffed and spitting insults at the floor, Dean wipes his forehead. “Time for you to go.”

“Sorry?” And then he realized. Dear God, for a moment he actually forgot this is not what he does. Normally he would be sitting at home, finishing his next deal. Not making arresting with fetching FBI agents in dark alleys. “Right. Well, then. I would appreciate it if you could keep this a secret –“

“As if I would keep silent about this! You’re finished, Crowley!”

“Yeah, right” Dean says. “Because so many people are going to believe you over me. I have a reputation, you know.” He grins once more at Crowley. “You’ve been a big help.”

“We’re even, then” he says matter-of-factly.

“Guess so. I will have to save your life again, so I have leverage once more.”

“Good luck with that. I am usually very careful, you know.”

“You sure about that?”

“Arresting me is one thing, but I won’t lie here and listen to you flirt!”

Are they flirting? Crowley supposes so. “I’ll be on my merry way, then.”

“See you, Crowley” Dean says as he pulls Cranmer to his feet. “Always glad to make arrests with you in dark alleys.”

He almost tells him “same” then thinks better of it and goes home.

Much later that night, he gets a text.

_Of course they don’t believe him. Everything’s fine._

The relief he feels surprises him. Surely he can’t have been that concerned for a FBI agent, and one who’s after him, no less?


	10. Chapter 10

**May**

A few weeks later, Crowley has come to admit something to himself: Without Dean Winchester in his life, either blackmailing him to get information, text him just because he can or inviting him to dinner, he’s bored.

He’s rarely been bored before – at least when he’s not sitting in a meeting with his minions – and it’s not a feeling he likes. Rather, he’s annoyed at himself that he allowed the agent to take up so much of his time. He’s never been the type to let himself be swayed by pretty eyes, so what is it about Dean Winchester?

He simply doesn’t understand.

But the point stands – his life has grown more boring; no; it has simply returned to what it was before; and he doesn’t like it.

So, really, it’s a bit of a relief when Winchester starts his next attack on his business.

This time, he’s sneaky, oh so very sneaky. He doesn’t try to plant a mole or find an informant or anything like that – at least not on Crowley; no, he approaches one of his minor minions seemingly wanting to talk about quite another enquiry, this one pertaining to the pickpockets of the city, and he’s too much of an idiot to realize what he actually wants is dirt on Crowley.

Oh, it’s really clever, because his new informant may be an imbecile, but not so much of one that he would volunteer any information if he thought it compromised Crowley – he values his life too highly for that. Granted, Crowley doesn’t, but to each their own.

But as of now, he’s divulged nothing the least bit dangerous, and Crowley decides to act and see what Dean Winchester will do.

And so he drops a few hints during their next talk that go right over the useless minion’s head but, if repeated to Dean, won’t fail to have an effect on the agent.

They don’t. That evening, Crowley gets a text that asks, _Drink?_

They meet up in the same place where they met Cranmer in – he wonders if Dean is hoping for some more dangerous criminals to walk in.

Present company excluded, of course.

“So here’s the thing” Dean says immediately as he sits down, “I’d be really thankful if you’d let him escape. I gave my word that nothing would happen to him, you know. He’s a bit dumb, but also really scared, and just wants to get away – or will want to once he understands you’ve figured it out.”

“And why should I?”

“Because I am asking really nicely?” Dean says sweetly, but there’s a challenge in his eyes.

“How about we make a deal instead?”

“A deal?” he grins. “Sorry sweetheart, but that would hardly be legal.”

“Many of our transactions haven’t been.”

“That’s true, but I’ve got principles, you know.”

Sad but true. If he hadn’t, the things they could do together… The people they could terrorize, the power they could accumulate…

“Alright, I have no idea what put that expression on your face, but I’m pretty sure it’s something nasty.”

“On the contrary.”

“If you say so.” Dean circles his glass with one finger, and Crowley stares, almost hypnotized by the elegant motion of his fingers. “Let’s see. You know I can’t condone murder, or anything really awful. And I can’t just give up on my assignment. But let’s say the next time I hear someone else is after you, or could potentially have evidence… I suppose I could give you a warning. Amongst friends, you know.”

“Just one? We’re talking about a human life here.”

“Rather a low life, wouldn’t you say?” Dean shoots back. “I gave my word, and I’d like to keep it, but sometimes you have to cut your losses – “

“Fine” he acquiesces. He supposes the deal is the best he can get. Even if he is a bit eager to close it. Maybe he just wants an excuse to talk to Winchester again. He could take a close look at his motives but doesn’t. It usually isn’t much fun for him.

“Alright then.”

“You know” Crowley says carefully, taking a sip of his drink. “In old times, they used to seal deals with a kiss.”

“Did they know?” Dean asks, raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t appear disgusted at the prospect. Or even surprised Crowley brought it up. “How interesting.”

He slides his empty glass over to him and smiles – and Crowley is taken aback by the transformation on his face. This isn’t one of his bright, cocky smiles; no, it’s rawer and feels more real – and it makes him even more attractive for reasons he cannot fathom. “But I’ll settle for another drink for now.”

Crowley is out of his seat before he has registered what Dean just said.

For now.

Means he wouldn’t be adverse to a kiss in the future.

How dangerous.

And how tempting.


	11. Chapter 11

**June**

After the struck their deal, Crowley waits to hear from Dean, but nothing happens. And really, he should have known it would be like this – he’s spent years making certain there’s no evidence against him, so why should there be now, and why should anyone else but the best agent in the Bureau, that being Dean Winchester, find it?

It’s unreasonable to be disappointed. The problem is that Crowley has always been unreasonable when it comes to his pleasure. And seeing Dean Winchester is a pleasure, whether he admits it or not.

Still – the constant hope of hearing from him Is something. Especially because Crowley is not used to even having hope to begin with. He’s always considered hope a poison, a disadvantage rather than an asset, but at the same time –

At the same time, he can’t deny that he hasn’t felt this alive in years.

The problem is that Winchester is of course still investigating him, and this might all just be a ruse to get under his skin. And a good one it would be, too.

But no; Winchester wants him. That much he knows. He couldn’t possibly have faked the desire in his eyes when they joked about kissing.

Still, it might better to keep away from him. After all, Crowley is already toying with the idea of manufacturing evidence against himself so he can see him again.

There is also the possibility that he is growing insane.

So he does what he usually does when he needs to take his mind of things – he checks in with both his son and his mother.

Precious few people – and of course Dean is one of them, he remembers – even know they exist. The official line is that he is utterly alone and independent in the world, that no one cares for him and he cares for no one.

If only it would be that easy.

In his defence, he never planned to have children, and didn’t find out about Gavin before he went to college; and his mother cannot be said to care for him a great deal.

Which means those visits will probably provide enough of a distraction to put Dean Winchester out of his head.

Or not.

“Say, has that handsome FBI agent contacted you yet, Fergus?”

“What agent? I have met several in my line of work” he says carelessly, sipping a glass of wine.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“That wasn’t a lie.”

“Not by omission, either” she continues, “I mean the extraordinarily attractive one with the green eyes, the easy smile and the cleverness to arrest someone like you, even, if he puts his mind to it. He’s exactly your type, I’d say.”

“Well then, seems like you don’t know me so well at all.”

She huffs. “So he has been in contact.”

She’s always been able to read him, much to his annoyance. No matter how hard he tries not to let show what he’s thinking, she’s always able to guess. And use it against him.

It was laughable that he thought he would be free of Dean, here. Of course she knows he’s attracted. And of course, she knows just how hopeless it is.

But she doesn’t know how far things have gone. 

“Yes, but of course he has no evidence.”

“That’s nice to know. You can’t allow yourself the smallest slip – I looked him up, you know. Dean Winchester is already a legend, and he’s not even forty yet.” A pointed smile.

As if it matters that he’s a little older than Winchester. He’d say on the list of potential conflicts, his age is rather below standing on different sides of the law.

“I am aware of his qualifications.”

“Then you better pay attention. Remember, they even got Al Capone in the end.”

Yes, and he still stands by his point that he was a bloody amateur.

* * *

The visit to Gavin and his fiancé Fiona works a little better… at first.

And then, right after dinner, both of them having shot him suspicious looks now and then (as if he needs a reason to visit his family – alright, so he does need a reason, but that doesn’t mean he’ll admit it), Fiona clears her throat and says, “A few months ago, we had a visitor. We went back on forth on whether we should tell you.”

“Winchester, that was the name” Gavin says. “Like the rifle. From the FBI. Don’t worry we didn’t tell him anything.”

They don’t know anything that could endanger Crowley, anyway. “I didn’t think you had.”

“He seemed very interested in you personally, though” Fiona continues in that quite confident manner of hers. “A bit too much for someone who just worries about arresting you, I thought.”

Really, why does everyone in his immediate family assume he wants to elope with the FBI agent who’s after him?


	12. Chapter 12

**June**

_So Sammy, I made a deal with the guy I am hunting, and seems like I’ll have to honour it now, and the best thing about this is I’m not even mad because he is very attractive and yes, when I think about it, I do actually have the hots for him, and once I saved his life, and I’m pretty sure I could get him into bed if I asked, but the problem with that is I think I’m on the brink of something other than just lust here –_

No, Dean decides, he can’t go to Sammy with this. There is a good reason his brother will think he’s insane, and he might, just might even decide to snitch to his supervisor if he thinks it’s for Dean’s best.

And he doesn’t think any of his other friends would get it, either.

One would have, but he’s…

He makes his way to Benny’s grave after his shift. “Hey, partner.”

He sits down on the bench and recalls the day of the funeral, Andrea’s tears, the child in her womb that will never get to know their father. The little boy is six months old now, and looking more like Benny every day.

“So I think I might be in the middle of making a colossal mess out of things” he says. “That’s the first thing they told us, isn’t it? Never grow attached to a target. Always keep yourself out of it. Work and private life are not to be mixed.” He sighs. “But I can’t help it. There’s something about him and - oh, I can just imagine how you’d glare at me. Yes, I know, he might very well just be playing with me, but that’s par of the fun. I know it shouldn’t be, and trust me, I’m angry at myself too, but…” He takes a deep breath and finally admits what he’s been thinking for a while. “Thing is, I know I could have come out on the other side too. Just a little nudge of fate, and I’d be the mafia boss. And C Rowley – as weird as it seems, I think he’s the same, just the other side of the medallion, you know? Don’t get me wrong, he’s a murdering devil of a bastard, but apart from that, he’s got class and he knows when to stop. Most of those sons of bitches don’t. He could have done away with Viktor. He didn’t.” A pause. “He’ll make a full recovery, by the way.”

Even with Benny unable to answer, Dean can feel him judging him.

* * *

Dean’s call, when it comes, is unexpected, but then things usually are that way when Winchester gets involved.

And Crowley, no matter how dangerous this is, wouldn’t have him any other way.

It’s a call to the burn phone that he foolishly hasn’t thrown away yet because it’s his best connection to Dean; at least no one could implicate him in anything because he has one. “Yes?”

“You me and dinner, how does it sound?”

Dean appears to him to be going for “casual” a little too hard, and Crowley is wondering if he perhaps actually missed him. Because he missed Dean. Just a bit.

“Fine. As long as I don’t have to help with any arrests.”

“I don’t think so – after all I was going to ask if you knew any restaurants.”

That’s… an amount of trust he wasn’t prepared for. Dean is just asking him where they should eat? He could easily set a trap. He’s not going to – of course he isn’t – but by God, this feels almost strange.

Still, he names a place he knows well, one where he’s always been safe without his guards and with staff that knows to look the other way.

* * *

_This is not a date, for God’s sake, it doesn’t matte how you look._

Still, it really feels like one, try as Dean might to convince himself.

And so here he is in front of the mirror, trying to decide whether to go for the tie or not.

Alright, no tie. This might be an upscale restaurant, but he’s known to prefer casual clothing in his free time, and he doesn’t want to arouse suspicions just in case anyone he knows sees him.

And so, he makes his way to the restaurant.

Of course it’s rather upscale. 

* * *

Crowley is already waiting for him, but Dean resists the urge to check his watch. He knows he’s punctual. Crowley probably just wanted to make him feel uneasy or guilty.

Although that look in his eyes when Dean sits down across him tells another story entirely.

He clears his throat. “So do you want to know –“

“I think we could start with a drink and work our way up from there.”

Who is Dean to refuse.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean knows, of course, that asking Crowley to dinner was a phenomenally stupid thing to do, just like he knew when he got dressed that he shouldn’t treat this as a date and yet did.

If he were thinking clearly, he might have considered the possibility that at least this dinner would remind him what sort of evil bastard Crowley was, and that could only help curb his crush in the long run, right?

Wrong.

Crowley is surprisingly good company when he’s not busy plotting how to take over the world. He can actually be quite funny and charming if he wants to be, and damn him if he doesn’t want to be exactly that tonight. Dean would feel honoured if he didn’t half-suspect that it’s a trick.

Problem is, figuring him out is too much fun.

For example, he’s certainly not rushing to learn what information Dean’s colleague has on him. Could be he’s just hungry, though.

Catching his eyes, Dean gets the feeling he’s hungry for more things than just food, and damn, if that isn’t tempting.

* * *

They both take their time. There is no reason to haste.

Well, actually there are quite a few reasons Crowley can think of, but he hasn’t seen Dean in weeks, so why should he try to get rid of him now?

He can’t tell what Winchester is thinking, which is as fascinating as it is frustrating. His mother certainly must never learn about this. While she’d probably agree that Dean is a man worth getting into his bed, she’d probably have to say a thing or two about him actually doing such a foolish thing and sleeping with a FBI agent. 

Not that he plans on doing it. Such a shame that such a pretty face and clever mind should be wasted on the Bureau.

And that Winchester should be such an upright member of society, because if he wasn’t, Crowley would have tried to recruit him months, if not years, ago.

“By the way” he says casually, “I went to visit my family. They were all quite taken with you.”

“Did they?” Dean asks. “Your son and his wife are a lovely couple. Not sure I would call your mother that as well, but you know…”

“Oh yes, I know.”

Dean grimaces. “Crappy childhood? Takes one to know one.”

He refrains from asking.

“You don’t even have to answer. It was pretty obvious.” A pause. “She still cares about you, though.”

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Hey, that doesn’t mean I don’t think she’s a witch who’s probably hurt you a million times. That’s family for you” he continues.

Again, he’s rather sure Dean Winchester didn’t have the best upbringing, either. What surprises him is that he actually wants to know. No; that’s not true; he’s usually careful to learn about anyone’s weak spots; what surprises him is that he cares, he genuinely, truly cares to hear more about Winchester’s life.

How could it come to this?

He is rather afraid he knows the answer when Dean hums in appreciation at the bite of his steak he just took.

* * *

As it turns out, the evidence agent Nugent has collected would have nothing to worry about anyway, but Crowley can’t bring himself to mind. After all, he gets to spend time with Dean.

Dear God, he sounds like a besotted teenager. Thank God he doesn’t know.

Somehow, they both linger after their meal, not wanting their time together to end – or at least a part of Crowley would like to think so. Eventually, they have to get up and get out.

“Have to say, this is a nice place. Pity I can’t take anyone normal here” Dean says.

“For that, you would need to get to know someone well and truly normal first, and I assure you darling, you’d only be bored.”

At first, he doesn’t reply, then he says, “The worst thing about this is that you would be right.”

They are standing in a dark alleyway, not unlike that in which the arrested Cranmer. They are silent. A certain awkwardness hangs in the air, and Crowley can definitely say that he is not used to that in the least. Things aren’t _awkward_ when he is involved. Dangerous and profitable, sure.

Not awkward.

For what it’s worth, Dean seems as much at a loss what to do as Crowley himself.

He takes a deep breath. “Well, thank you for the nice evening.”

“I assure you” he drawls, “the pleasure is all mine.”

Dean looks at him. “For the record, if you ever tell anyone what I told you –“

“I know, I’m dead. I love you, too.”

Dean is still looking at him. Another awkward pause ensues.

Then, the agent seems to come to a decision, announces, “Ah well, fuck it”, pushes Crowley against the wall and kisses him.


	14. Chapter 14

**June**

Dean knows this is a terrible idea. In fact, he was aware when it was first conceived that this was a terrible idea.

So he really has _no_ excuse for this.

But it’s been so long since he has been with anyone, and Crowley is there and pretty freaking attractive, and most importantly, he is kissing Dean back.

Suddenly their roles are reversed and Dean is being pushed against the wall, resulting in a battle for dominance that shouldn’t be as enjoyable as it is.

When they break apart, Crowley looks at him. “You’re coming back to my please.”

Dean should probably object. But the thing is, he wants to go back to Crowley’s place more than anything right now, and so he answers smoothly, “Fine by me.”

Crowley raises an unimpressed eyebrow and starts walking away, causing Dean to follow.

* * *

Well, Crowley reflects he doesn’t know how much later.

The day certainly got much more enjoyable than he thought it would, even after he knew he and Winchester were going to have dinner.

But then, he could hardly have foreseen this dessert.

“By the way, I had the security breach fixed. You won’t be able to break in anymore.”

“You just want me to try again.”

“It would be funny to watch you fail.”

“Oh honey” Dean grins. “I don’t fail.”

“And yet I am not behind bars at the moment.”

“Hey, no one said anything about a time limit. Plus, you know” Dean props himself up on an elbow and looks at him. “Right now you going to jail would seriously ruin the plans I have for you.”

“Oh so now we’ve got plans.”

“Damn right we have.”

Dean rolls on top of him again.

Yes, the evenings has definitely taken a very enjoyable turn.

* * *

Crowley is woken up by his phone ringing. It’s about five am; Dean grumbles next to him and buries deeper under the cover, and Crowley takes a second to process that one, Winchester stayed and two, he is actually glad he did.

It’s one of his minions. “Sir, we have a problem.”

Problem can mean anything, so he gets out of bed. Regretfully.

He throws a glance back as he exits the bedroom. Yes. Very regretfully.

* * *

He’s busy barking orders into his phone – these idiots, how did the shipment go to Chicago instead of Los Angeles? – when a cup of coffee appears in front of him. He blinks.

He assumed that the agent would leave when he realised he was busy with work, but instead he gives him a cheeky grin and disappears back in the kitchen.

The thought that he’s eavesdropping occurs to Crowley embarrassingly late, but then, how is even Winchester to know where exactly the delivery is supposed to go to?

He’s soon sorted everything out and follows Dean into the kitchen, where he’s…

Busy making breakfast.

“Figured you’d have a bit of a lie in” he quips.

“Couldn’t sleep anymore, someone was shouting into his phone.”

“My employees are idiots.”

“I know that. You are aware that it’s rather a surprise none of them have ratted you out accidently, do you?”

“There is nothing accidental about that, I can assure you.”

Dean throws him a glance he can’t quite read.

Really, this is idiotic. He shouldn’t have any trouble making small talk with someone he has slept with, after all he’s –

Oh. He’s never done this before. He’s never had someone stay around long enough for this.

And especially not an officer of the law.

“So did you take notes?”

“Not on duty” Dean comments lightly, “And really, if this could in any way endanger you, you’d have been far angrier than you were.”

Yes, Dean Winchester is rather remarkably intelligent.

“You’d be right about that”.

“Thought so” he says simply and Crowley thinks somewhat uncharitably that Dean ahs no business being so very comfortable and calm and relaxed when he has no idea how to proceed.

Thing is, he really enjoyed last night, and he’d like to do it again.

But there’s this small problem that technically Dean just slept with his target. “You do realise I can blackmail you now, right?” he asks lightly as he sits down.

Dean serves them and snorts. “You know better than that. Who would believe you, even if you told anyone?”

That is true. Dean’s reputation would keep any rumours at bay, and his colleagues would probably only laugh. “You still slept with the enemy.”

“So did you, Fergus.”

“I prefer Crowley.”

“Crowley, then.” Dean sighs, his expression dropping. “Alright, time to be honest. You are absolutely right of course, this was pure madness.”

There it is, then. The _we are better as friends, or enemies in this case_ , speech.

It’s downright ridiculous how disappointed he is.

“But” Dean continues, and when he looks up, he’s smiling again. “There’s something else.”

“Oh?”

“Yes” Dean replies and drags him close by grabbing his tie. “You’re exciting. And I like exciting.”

They might both be insane after all.


	15. Chapter 15

**June**

The problem is, Crowley reflects one night, they both know much better than this.

Know much better than sleep with the enemy and pretend they don’t when they go to work.

And yet neither of them wants to stop. Because Dean was right – it is exciting; and Crowley hasn’t had much excitement in the last few years.

Well, excitement that came from something else than someone screwing up or an enemy trying to do away with him.

But this is different. For the first time in his life, he’s not getting lost in his work or the pain he can inflict on others or the money he can make, but in another person, and it should worry him but doesn’t, which in turn does cause him to worry.

But not enough to stop it. Not when he just has to make a call, and soon after, Dean Winchester will be in his bed. As ready to give and receiver pleasure as that first night.

What should concern him more is probably that they have started to trade small hello and goodbye kisses. That’s certainly not something he has ever done with anyone before.

But then, he’s not ever had something that so closely resembled a relationship. They have even continued to have meals together, and Dean brings a change of clothes with him, now.

It’s crazy and dangerous and one of the most amazing things to ever happen to Crowley, he cannot deny that.

Not that he’s doping anything silly like falling in love. He is pretty sure he is incapable of that, thank God.

His mother made sure he learnt love is nothing but a disadvantage found on the losing side.

* * *

That doesn’t stop others from making observations.

Gavin and Fiona have invited him to dinner because it’s his son’s birthday, and when he told Dean, he urged him to attend. Since he doesn’t mean to be influenced by him in any way, shape or form, he told him haughtily that he can make his own decision, which caused them to fight, which caused Dean to storm out.

They made up. He spent last night at Crowley’s.

Gavin is studying over his steak. “There’s something different about you, Father. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“I assure you, I am still the same old bastard.”

“No, I agree” Fiona says, and there’s a suspicion on her eyes that makes him wonder whether Gavin hasn’t married a woman too clever for her own good.

* * *

“So, what’s their name?” Sam asks casually over a drink one night.

Dean knows exactly what he wants but decides it best to play dumb. “Sorry?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Come on, I’m not blind. Who is this person you are dating?”

“Not dating anyone.”

Sam looks disappointed, as always when Dena tells him that no, he’s not in a relationship, he just has found himself once again a friend with benefits.

Well… in this case, there are definitely benefits, but he wouldn’t call him and Crowley friends. At least not really.

Then again, maybe he should dial it down a little bit. No reason to keep cooking for the guy, other than that his kitchen is amazing and gets way too little use.

“Don’t give me that look Samantha, I’m not fifty yet. Plenty of time to settle down.”

“I don’t mean to judge, Dean. It’s just – I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. Got a great job, can have a hot – well – in my bed whenever I want, and I got you and Charlie and Garth…”

“Yes, but that’s not the kind of happiness I mean” he says quietly and oh God, Sam wants him to be serious. “Whether you realize it or not, Dean, you’re a family man through and through and –“

“Yeah, didn’t help Benny much”. The words escape him before he realizes, and Sam flinches. “Shouldn’t have said that” he mumbles, “Andrea would have my hide.”

“No she wouldn’t. She’d invite you to dinner to have the kid play with his uncle Dean and give you an earful afterwards. But you can’t – I know it was hard on you, but you can’t let that influence your decisions. Like I said, I just want you to be happy.” Sam takes a deep breath. “And if – whatever you’re doing right now makes you happy, then it’s fine by me,.”

Dean seriously doubts that, but he thanks him anyway.

* * *

Later that night, Crowley sends him a text after he’s returned from diner with his son and dean smiles down at his phone as he reads, not realizing he does until he glances up and sees his own expression reflected in his window.

Oh God.

Sammy was right.

Crowley does make him happy. It’s not just that he’s the forbidden fruit and dangerous and attractive –

Dean _likes_ him.

“Now what?” he asks his empty apartment.


	16. Chapter 16

**July**

Crowley is not a man who has been known to get sentimental. He certainly never cared enough for his past lovers – if you could call it that – to wonder what they were doing when they were not in his bed, and normally, he’d expect to feel the same about Winchester.

Instead, here he is, fretting because he hasn’t been in contact for three days. He could send him a text, of course, but he doesn’t want to look like a jilted lover who can’t stay on his own for a week before crawling back, plus they certainly have never pretended this thing between them is anything serious or lasting anyway.

He’d just like to know what Winchester is doing because him going silent could mean another attack’s coming, and he rather likes being free. He’d prefer not to go to prison.

At least that’s what he tells himself.

His employees have noticed his bad mood. They slink past him without a word, trying not to look at him to closely, but then, most of them do that anyway.

He tells himself he’s being ridiculous and moves on.

* * *

Alright, maybe he just tries and fails to move on. It’s utterly absurd, of course. They have gone for weeks without talking before, so he shouldn’t be worrying about Winchester now.

Not that he is worrying. He never worries. He’s made somewhat of a rule of it.

Bit still.

* * *

After another four days, he caves and contacts one of his informers inside the Bureau. Dean knows he has them, of course, although Crowley is reasonably sure he hasn’t figure out who they are yet.

Granted, he could still do without the surge of _something_ in his chest when he learns that Winchester has gone on a short undercover assignment – and a dangerous one at that. He’s not surprised they would pick him. One of the best they ever had, and unmarried to boot. Of course they would want Dean Winchester on the assignment.

That doesn’t make him any less nervous when he checks his file on the man they are after. Dick Roman. Crowley’s had a few run-ins with him in the past, and they have never been pleasant. In fact, he’s rather sure he once only escaped by the skin of his teeth.

And now Dean and a group of agents who simply cannot be as good as Winchester himself are on their way to stop him.

He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t like this at all.

* * *

It’s another week before Dean makes contact. Crowley’s not surprised – he has heard of Roman’s arrest. He suspects every criminal in the city has.

However, any curiosity he might otherwise have shown on the topic vanishes when he sees Dean.

He looks awful. Famished for one thing, exhausted for another, and the way he moves, it’s not difficult to realize he must have been a bit banged up-

He doesn’t ask, and Dean doesn’t tell.

Crowley spends dinner wondering if he should say something, but there’s am look in Dean’s eyes that tells him he doesn’t want to talk about it. And he knows that feeling. His mother never respected it, which is all the more reason for him to do so.

* * *

They fall in bed together soon afterwards. Well, not exactly fall – Dean’s cleaning the plates rather obsessively, with Crowley watching, and when he’s done trying him he turns around and demands “Make me forget.”

Only too gladly.

* * *

It is that night, with Dean dead to the world next to him, that Crowley has an epiphany.

It’s not a welcome one, but then, they seldom are. He remembers looking into the mirror in a cheap motel and realizing he’s a drug addict years ago; it felt remarkably like this moment, only that for some strange reason, tonight, he’s not just shocked or dismayed, he’s happy at the same time.

It must be this damn – there is –

Dean warned him that he’d probably drop of the second they were finished, and he proved right about that. Small wonder. He must have run on little more than adrenaline in the past week.

So Crowley’s stuck watching him. That’s a new one, too; normally he leaves his partners in bed as quickly in possible. Or rather, kicks them out of his.

He never came around to kicking Winchester out that first night, and he’s never left until he had to since.

The point is, here he is watching, checking now and the that Dean’s still breathing as if he’s a new parent staring at their very first baby – or not, considering their activities prior to him passing out – and feeling so inexplicably relieved –

And that’s when the realization hits him.

“Bollocks” he says, but Dean doesn’t even stir.

His –

His –

His _beloved_ sleeps on, oblivious to what Crowley has just learned.


	17. Chapter 17

**July**

Now that the fact that he is in love – the irrefutable, unforgiving fact – has presented itself to Crowley, he wonders what he should do about it. The logical thing would be to end things with Dean, of course, but the annoying heart he just learned he possesses after fifty years in which he was rather convinced he didn’t won’t allow him. Somehow, the hours they spend together have become the best part of Crowley’s day, and he cannot change that.

When did Dean Winchester become so important to him? He fascinated him from the start, that much is true. But so would any clever man have done – he’s met so few in his life.

If only it were just his physical attributes – and Crowley is ready to admit that Dean is indeed very handsome – but it’s so much more than that. No, it’s his charm and his intelligence and his sarcasm and his kindness (and since when does he care about anyone being _kind_ , anyway?)

What remains is to fret over what, if anything, Winchester feels for him.

There is, of course, the possibility that this is what he wanted from the first. Find Crowley, seduce him, make him fall for his boyish charms, wait for him to slip up, get him that way. But it somehow doesn’t seem like something Dean would do. Too predictable. Too juvenile.

And yet –

This is the most frustrated Crowley can ever remember feeling, mostly because his usual way of dealing with people who annoy him is out of the question. Dean Winchester’s existence has become something he cherishes, so he can’t do away with him.

The problem, of course, is what he is going to do about it.

* * *

“You’ve been quiet tonight” Dean says over dinner a few days later.

“Just thinking.”

“Don’t you usually do that?” he asks, sounding amused. “If not, we would have caught you years ago.”

He doesn’t quite know how Dean balances sleeping with the guy he’s chasing. But that discussion would probably lead to another one that Crowley isn’t feeling comfortable starting yet. Might never be.

Really, he thought falling in love was supposed to be a good feeling. Or at least not a frustrating one.

He did right, staying away from it all these years. But here he is, and love has crept up on him and made itself known when he thought he was well past all that.

“Anyway” Dean says, “Things have been quiet down at the Bureau, too. Not that I mind – after Dick Roman, I needed some time to breathe.”

“A close call, then” he says matter-of-factly. He knew there must have been.

Dean grimaces. “Bastard got Bela in the chest. A few inches to the left, and it would have hit her heart.”

“I am sorry to hear it.” To his surprise, he realizes he actually is. From the few scraps of information Dean has bestowed on him, he knows that he and Talbot are at least on friendly terms most of the time.

“She’s tough as nails, thank God. Already annoying the nurses and doctors, trying to make them let her go:” Dean gives him a wry smile. “All of this is classified, mind you.”

He thinks drawing him into a kiss is the best answer he can give.

* * *

Dean is in trouble, and it’s not the sort of trouble he knows.

Being attracted to Crowley is one thing.

Being in contact with him another.

Sleeping with him – that’s just – well, that’s just rather complicated given the circumstances.

But _developing feelings_ for him – that’s one of the most stupid things Dean ahs ever done. Hands down.

So Crowley is hot, he’s known that from day one, but the trouble is he’s also clever and can be surprisingly kind (well, kind for a mob boss – Dean already knows he’s insane, so why bother to try and explain it) and funny when he thinks no one is looking, and Dean’s always been a sucker for bad guys with a heart of gold, cliché as it might seem.

Thing is, he’s not going to lie to himself and pretend they have a chance at a happy ending, even if Crowley should for some reasons have feelings for him as well.

And that is so ridiculous it would make Dean laugh, only that there’s nothing funny about it because he’s in love with one of the most dangerous men he ever met.

_Of course_ he had to fall for him of all people. Of course he had to. He couldn’t just build a life with Cassie or Lisa or any other ex he accumulated over the years, with a nice, sober, industrious woman or man who would have kept him on the straight and narrow instead of galloping around with a mafia boss.

That’s just how his life works.


	18. Chapter 18

**July**

“Hey there, stranger” Bela says, looking up from her hospital bed. “I thought they’d sent you on another assignment!”

“Sorry” he says, handing her the flowers he has brought her. IN truth, he does feel a little guilty – he should come much more often than he does, but the thing is, when he has the choice between visiting a friend and seeing Crowley, these days the answer is always Crowley, and that’s more than a little disconcerting.

“Don’t apologize. You saved my life back there. I just hope they are worth it, we can’t have you mope around the Bureau again.”

“I don’t mope” he says, “And there’s no they.”

“Alright, just invite me to the wedding when the time comes.”

Of course Bela would immediately guess. He reminds himself that he has to be careful around his co-workers.

“Anyway, my last visitor came two days ago. Tell me all the gossip – I need to stay on top.”

He complies.

**August**

He will later think that, if he weren’t so busy with dean, or rather, with trying and miserably failing to understand how he could fall for an agent of the Bureau, he would have seen the signs sooner.

As it is, he only has himself to blame.

He’s almost too late.

Almost.

In the end, it’s not even his brains who help him barely skirt past catastrophe – it’s Abaddon’s cockiness. Crowley has observed it on her before, and thankfully, it usually serves to his advantage – like this time.

She shows up from time to time with yet another proposal that they work together, but after that first time, he has no desire to ever do so again.

Still, this time she makes an off-handed comment as she leaves, “Since you don’t want anything to do with me, I might as well go work on my other project – a rather fascinating little problem of succession, you know –“

And even so, it takes him a few hours to understand.

_Succession._

He was convinced that not a single one of his rivals knew about Gavin.

The strength of his reaction surprises him. He has never been an enthusiastic father, and he certainly wouldn’t say they are close; but just the thought of him being in danger is enough to raise Crowley’s hackles and make him feel angry and bitter and ready to strike –

He looks at his watch. Ten pm. He has to be logical, as always.

He ends reinforcements.

He has his burn phone out and is dialling Dean’s number before he realizes that the agent himself could have told them.

But surely he wouldn’t? Surely Dean wouldn’t risk the life of civilians? And even if –

“Hey man, sorry, can I call you back –“

“Dean” he breathes, “Gavin.”

There must be something in his voice, for Dean immediately leaves whatever meeting he happened to be in – Crowley can hear him excusing himself and saying something about a “family emergency” and walks quickly to his office. “What’s going on?”

“Abaddon.”

Dean curses. “Her? She once almost took off my arm, and we still couldn’t prove it was her.”

And apart from his worry for Gavin, another surge of protectiveness rose in his chest. How dare she almost kill Dean Winchester before Crowley ever had a chance to meet him –

The thought that he is going insane crosses his mind.

“Look, best thing is we meet at Gavin’s. It would be stupid to try anything on the street – granted, she has done that before, but she probably wants to take her time.” Dean sounds angry, now. “Always did enjoy that.”

A shiver runs down his spine. How dare she. How dare she.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it” Dean says.

“You don’t know that” he snaps.

“No I don’t. Sorry, for a second I thought I was talking to a normal person.”

That actually makes him chuckle and calms him down.

“Alright, see you at their place.”

“Yes” he agrees and they hang up.

He realizes he’s feeling far less worried than before.

With Dean Winchester at his side, what he has to do seems far less daunting than before.

* * *

Dean is already waiting when Crowley arrives. “Those two watching the building – anyone you know?”

Crowley shakes his head.

“Good. As far as I can tell, she hasn’t entered yet.”

No, but there are indeed two anonymous henchmen lying in wait; Crowley can clearly see them, although he suspects others would think them inconspicuous.

“So” Dean says, “Do you have a plan?”

He doesn’t like to admit that he just came rushing here without one, but he seems to understand. He lays a hand on his arm. “Hey, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure your son and Fiona get out of there alright, I promise.”

“Thank you”.

To his surprise, Dean presses a kiss against his lips. “And now we wait.”


	19. Chapter 19

**August**

They wait. Of course his first impulse was to rush right in, perhaps warn Gavin and Fiona; but undoubtedly Abaddon is waiting for something like that, and she probably has several back-up plans.

What she doesn’t have, however, is knowledge of his… relationship with Dean, if he might call it that; and he certainly came the second Crowley called.

The again, he might just like Gavin and Fiona. Most people do. Even his mother does.

As if he can read his thoughts, Dean whispers, “Should we be worried about your mother as well?”

“I doubt Abaddon would consider her a worthy target considering our… everything.”

“Fair enough.“

“Also if anyone comes after her, it’s their own fault.”

“Dean chuckles, “That’s definitely the impression I got. Are you armed?”

“Invariably, as you well know.”

“I got my non-FBI issued gun. Considered that was safer.”

There shouldn’t be anything romantic about Dean offering to once again kill someone for him, but for Crowley, there is. Not that he can dwell on it – there are more important things he has to focus on.

It’s two am and the windows of the apartment have long since gone ark when he registers movement in the corner of his eye, and when he moves to alert Dean, the agent simply nods to show he’s seen it.

They move quickly and efficiently.

Abaddon’s two men are still outside watching – she most likely wants to do this alone; they quickly render them unconscious and drag them behind the dustbins before entering the house.

Dean knows the number of the apartment, of course. 

The door is slightly open when they reach it. Just like Abaddon – it wouldn’t be fun if she wasn’t risking something. 

Another reason Crowley didn’t enjoy working with her. She can be sloppy when she has fun.

“He looks at Dean, who nods, and they act.

“Please –“ Gavin’s voice from the bedroom tells them all they need to know.

“There is nothing to beg of me. I have a message to send, and who better to send it through than you two?”

“But –“

“No buts, sorry, Fergus junior. I am going to –“

“Do absolutely nothing” he announces, stepping in, followed by Dean.

They both know they will have to kill her. They cannot risk her getting away and knowing that they are closer than they should be.

Her eyes widen and Croxley has the satisfaction of knowing they surprised her. “Agent Dean Winchester.” She grins.” This just got even better.”

“If you say so” Dean says calmly.

And that’s when she attacks, ferocious like a rabid animal.

Within seconds, she has her knife at Fiona’s throat. “If either of you move, she’s dead.”

”Thought you said they were going to die anyway” he remarks, trying to sound careless.

“Oh yes.” She grins. “But it will be so much more fun if I make you watch – Agent, drop the weapon. Now.”

Dean does so with reluctance.

“Kick it away.”

As he obeys, there’s something in his eyes – a certain look that Crowley has seen in certain moments – that almost makes him believe he has a –

The shot rings out before he understands, but when his ears stop ringing, Abaddon is lying dead on the floor, Fiona is fetching her knife, and Gavin is breathing heavily, Dean’s gun in his hands.

“Figured he’d do it” Dean says, “Like father, like son. You alright?”

Gavin takes another deep breath, then nods. “She wanted to kill Fiona.”

“That’s right” Dena agrees. “Serves her right.”

“I agree” Fiona says simply.

Crowley’s more and more impressed with his daughter-ion-law.

“Now” she announces, “I’d really like an explanation for what just happened.”

“And” Gavin continues smoothly, “Why you two showed up together.”

* * *

A cup of tea and an explanation later – to their credit, Fiona and Gavin didn’t even bat an eye – they are getting rid of the body. It won’t do to call the police in and have them show up on everyone’s radar.

Thankfully the trunk of Dean’s car is more than adequate for carrying her as far away as they need.

“Best if we don’t see each other for a few weeks” Crowley says, “Just to make sure.”

Abaddon’s henchmen won’t try anything when they realize she’s gone missing – none of them even know the meaning of the word loyalty – but still, it doesn’t hurt to make sure.

“Alright, Father. Take care.”

They both surprise him with hugs; Fiona whispers to him, “You should keep Dean around.”

He doesn’t know how to answer that.

* * *

Right before the break of dawn, they bury Abaddon at a field fifty miles out of town.

“Thank you” he says as they make sure the earth looks undisturbed.

“Hey, you’re welcome.”

Crowley waits for it but this time, Dean doesn’t say anything about owing him a favour.

“Tell you what though, I deserve a shower and a good breakfast.”

“I can easily supply that” Crowley answers.

Dean grins. “Brilliant.”


	20. Chapter 20

**September**

Ever since they saved his son and daughter-in-law two months ago, this thing with Crowley has gone off the rails.

Even as he thinks it, Dean is aware that for everyone else, it would seem like things are very very much on the rails, but then, he’s not everyone else. He’s Dean Winchester, FBI agent with admittedly more than a little wrong with him, if what he has been up to is anything to go by.

Because after they buried Abaddon, he and Crowley started acting well and truly like a couple. Daily texts are a thing now, and so are meet-ups that even he can’t help but call dates. He regularly spends the night at Crowley’s place, and perhaps the most foolish development of all – he’s even invited him to his own apartment a couple of times.

At least he’s still alive, meaning Crowley didn’t use the opportunity to hide a bomb or something, but still.

“You would be having a fit” he tells Benny’s gravestone. “But the truth is, I like him, and I don’t know how to turn it off. God knows I should – I should be running for the hills while my reputation is still intact.” He pauses. “And to be perfectly frank – he makes he happy.” There. Now he has admitted to it out loud. God Knows what Crowley would do if he ever found out, but this relationship, for lack of a better word, has made Dean happier than he has been in a while.

Benny doesn’t answer, of course, since he can’t. Although all of this would probably be enough to make a very much alive version of him shut up and then send Dean to the nearest prison for the criminally insane.

And he couldn’t even blame him.

So he does what he usually does after these visits and goes to a bar for a nice scotch.

* * *

Later that night, even though he really should know better – even though he does know better – he ends up at Crowley’s place again. He’s apparently negotiating some deal with someone high up or other, and Dean’s not surprised – he knows at least three senators who are in the mob’s pay, and as long as Crowley is the one controlling then, that’s actually a good thing for the country. The other criminals he knows would do far worse.

So he simply goes to the kitchen to cook. He thinks even if Crowley weren’t – whatever he is, the kitchen would be enough to get him in trouble. He’s seldom seen a better-stoked one.

* * *

It’s a good thing Dean shows up, waves hello and retreats to the kitchen, because otherwise Crowley doesn’t think he’d have been able to hold his temper.

Somehow, the days always seem so long now. Especially when they have only exchanged short texts.

He’s starting to think he must look like a besotted teenager, since he can barely restrain himself from checking his phone even in front of his minions. And he can’t allow himself to be distracted. It already almost cost Gavin and Fiona their lives, a fact they have taken with remarkable cold-bloodedness, all things considered. They keep pestering him to bring Dean to dinner, no matter how often he tells them they don’t have that kind of relationship.

Probably because it’s all too obvious that they do.

So he simply ignores their requests. Although that won’t work forever.

Once he’s done with his negotiations, he walks to the kitchen. Dean has taken off his jacket and tie and rolled up his shirt arms, and looks entirely too appetizing himself while preparing their food.

“Hi Crowley.”

“Squirrel.”

* * *

The evening is very similar to others they have shared over the past two months – maybe even longer than that, if he’s being honest – and yet Crowley is on edge. He knows why, of course; business hasn’t been going as well as it should, his minions become more annoying with very passing day, and because he and Dean have to be so careful, they can’t spend nearly as much time together as he at least would like.

He doesn’t know how Dean feels about it all. That’s the biggest problem. If he knew for sure there was something there – he’s been known to take calculated risks. But _this_ risk is a bit too high for his liking.

And yet – and yet –

Somehow, tonight is the night that he makes a decision. And he doesn’t even know it has happened until he says it out loud.

Now, he’s certainly not trying to make any decisions. He just drags Dean off to bed at the earliest opportunity, and he’s far from unwilling. In fact, if anything, Crowley would assume he was stressed too.

And then they are lying next to one another, and he has an epiphany. So he announces into the dark room, “I don’t want to do this anymore.“


	21. Chapter 21

**September**

Dean knew this moment would come. What they have never could last.

He didn’t underestimate how much it would hurt, however. And now he’s angry at himself because it does, and at Crowley because couldn’t he have said something before he dragged him off to bed? Apart from everything else, and –

Well, he’s still going to make him say it. He rolls on his side and leans on his elbow. “Care to elaborate?”

“This. I don’t want to do this anymore” Crowley repeats. Ah. That’s it then –

Dean is taken aback when Crowley goes into a rant. “I have more than enough money, but this simply isn’t fun anymore. Do you know how hard it is to get capable employees, and don’t even get me started at the other high-profile criminals around here – they don’t know a good deal when I serve it to them on a silver platter. And then there is the police snooping around – they can’t do anything of course, but they are so dreadfully annoying – and it’s hardly bearable to not be able to see you when I want since I am not good at denying myself anything – “

If Dean understands him – and he has his doubts . Then Crowley didn’t mean, well, this this, but –

“You mean – you want to get out of the life?” he asks, his heart beating wildly. If this is really what Crowley means, if this entails what he thinks it entails, if he’s doing it for the reason Dean doesn’t even dare think of right now –

“Yes” Crowley says, sounding surprised at himself. “Yes, I think I do.”

“Alright. And does that mean you want to…” he trails off.

“Now you will have to elaborate.”

He rolls his eyes. “Come on. You know what I mean.”

“No I don’t.”

“Crowley –“

“You really want to make me say it, huh?”

“That would be a good start” he agrees.”

“Fine” he says matter-of-factly. “I want you, Dean Winchester. And not just as my dirty little secret. There, I admitted it. I want a life with you. Clear enough?”

“For the moment I’d say yes, yeah” Dean says, and then he laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs and cannot stop.

“I don’t know what’s so funny –“ Now Crowley sounds decidedly miffed.

“This whole time I have been wondering what I can don to get you out of my system, turns out I won’t have to.” After a pause he adds, “Because I want a life with you, too.”

A moment of silence. Then Crowley says, “I can see why you would laugh at that.”

“Damn right” Dean says and rolls on top of him.

They can talk details later.

* * *

Those details, of course, are a little complicated once they catch their breath and actually start thinking about them.

Crowley has to give up shop. That much is clear. But how to do that and end up a free citizen afterwards, that is the question.

It’s him who comes up with an idea. “How about I turn informant?”

“Against whom? Yourself?”

Crowley gives him his _don’t be an idiot_ look. “Of course not. I have a wealth of information against the other criminals in this town – many of whom the FBI stands no chance in arresting without my knowledge. So – ”

“So you’d make a deal with the Bureau” Dean says carefully.

“Yes. I would even add that you showed me the error of my ways.”

Dean snorts. “They wouldn’t believe you, but you can hint at something like that all you want. At least it’s something resembling an explanation.”

“So far so good.”

They continue talking about it. It’s not just how to get Crowley out – there’s also the problem how they will explain that somehow, they got into a relationship on the way and want to stay in one. At least that’s mostly a Bureau problem – once the deal is through, everything will be classified, so people like Sammy will never have to know who Crowley is and why their relationship was a bit of a bad idea.

Still, it is a problem. Dean can just imagine the face of his superior. “When push comes to shove, I can always resign.”

“You would?” Crowley raises an eyebrow.

“Sam has been after me getting a less dangerous job for a while” he shrugs. “And I think we’d make mean P.I.s if push comes to shove.”

“I told you, I have money –“

“I’m not going to be your kept man.”

“Pity” Crowley says, smirking.

Dean slaps his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. So I guess we’re really doing this, huh?”

“It would appear so” Crowley says, and his eyes soften. Dean has never seen that expression on his face but decides it suits him very well indeed.

They are going to make it, he decides.


	22. Chapter 22

In the end, they decide to go through the official channels. Once Crowley calls the phone at Dean’s desk, the Bureau will know that they are in contact anyway; but if he manages to be just convincing enough –

Crowley of course thinks there won’t be a problem. Probably believes he can convince anyone to do anything.

That said, he did get Dean to go to bed with him but well… that was more a mutual decision, really.

Still…

On the Monday after Crowley’s decision – Dean’s still not sure whether he won’t chicken out at the last moment – his phone rings at ten am. “Agent Winchester.”

“Good morning” Crowley says smoothly “Fergus Crowley speaking. I was wondering if you remembered our recent talk…”

“I do.”

“In that case –“

Crowley doesn’t even get to finish the sentence before Dean’s supervisor bursts out of his office, his face red.

* * *

“You are telling me Fergus Crowley wants to become an informant?”

“Yes.”

“So you want to let a mafia boss walk away scot free just so we get a few minor criminals…”

“What Crowley offers ain’t minor. If I am correct, we could bring about two thirds of the mob in this city behind bars.”

His boss does a rather impressive impression of a goldfish.

* * *

By midday “Winchester’s coup” as it is known, has made the rounds in the Bureau.

“Well, Winchester” Rufus says, stopping by, “You’ve done it again:”

“Really, there wasn’t that much to be done” Dean shrugs. “He’s tired of it all. Gets annoyed at his employees a lot. Has more than enough money, which he of course declines to part with, but I think we can deal as long as it means –“

“Oh yes” Rufus interrupts him, quietly. There’s a look in his eyes that tells Dean he’s guessed the truth, or at least something close to it. “Just be careful” he then adds roughly, and Dean nods.

It’s a lie, of course – nothing he’s done concerning Crowley is in any way careful – but if it makes him feel better…

* * *

Crowley’s appointment with the boss is two days later. Dean has coached him on what to say, although he complained that he didn’t need any coaching.

“Doesn’t hurt to be sure. And don’t you dare sign anything without –“

“Who do you take me for, a newbie?”

Dean grins. “Wouldn’t put it past him to try and trick you, that’s all. He can be a moron, sometimes.”

“I know someone else who –“

“Do you want this or not?”

Crowley proceeds to push him down on the sofa and draw him into a make out session.

Dean can’t really argue with that.

* * *

The whole Bureau is on alert when Crowley comes calling. Dean has taken it upon himself to lead him to his boss’ office, and they act as if they are acquaintances at best, and not even friendly ones at that.

They’ll have to keep that up for a few months at least before they have to come up with an explanation how things just progressed from there.

Even Bela has come to work, even though technically she’s still on leave. Just like Rufus, she narrows her eyes when she sees them together and throws Dean a glance that he does his best to ignore.

* * *

The negotiations take several weeks. Dean’s boos, while glad to be the one known for getting rid of almost the entire mob in one fell swoop, is rather determined to try and make Crowley pay for everything he’s done too, and the thing is… Dean gets it. He should agree, hell, he kind of does agree with him.

The problem is Crowley behind bars would mean a Crowley who is not with him, and that’s not something he wants. It doesn’t make sense, it has never made sense – even sleeping with him would have been understandable, but the fact that they fell for one another is as crazy as… something very crazy indeed.

He’ll just have to wait and see.

* * *

Crowley carries the day, of course. For all his information and more than enough evidence, he wants to be free and he gets to be free plus to keep all the money he made.

Dean’s boss isn’t too pleased, but really, he still gets a good deal out of it and Dean – well – Dean gets his man. Not that he can officially be that now.

At least no one outside the Bureau knows what Crowley looks like. Even the one newspaper who dared publish an article about him knew better than to print a picture.

It means Dean will be able to introduce Crowley to his non-FBI friends as his boyfriend and won’t have to explain why _no, this is actually a very good idea, yes I am sure, no, he hasn’t tried to kill me yet._

It all seems to good to be true.

He should have known it would all go wrong.


	23. Chapter 23

Dean insists on being on the team that went after Hess, both to smugly point out that this would never have happened without him and to make sure everyone thinks he had no other motive in influencing Crowley to give up his evil ways.

So really, it’s his own fault.

Not that it matters when you’re bleeding out.

He idly wonders if the wound in his chest looks like the one Bela got – it might very well be; and then he remembers that he and Crowley are supposed to have dinner tonight and that he won’t make it.

That’s it, then. End of the line. He’s strangely calm about it, although he would really have liked to spend some more time with his boyfriend before lights out.

* * *

He comes to a few weeks later. There were complications, they will tell him, but at the time, he’ll be too dosed up on pain killers to comprehend everything, and then it will just seem silly to ask.

“Dean!”

Of course Sammy is there, waiting for him. “Hey” he croaks, managing to smile.

“Oh my God, Dean –“ He presses the button to call the doctor, and Dean slips under again.

* * *

When he next wakes up, Sam isn’t in the room.

But someone else is. “Really, Squirrel, it is hardly fair to decide to get rid of our deal by getting shot.”

“Crowley?”

“The one and only, darling.” Crowley comes in his line of vision and Dean is surprised to see he doesn’t just look worried, but utterly exhausted – as if he’s been sitting up at his bedside, too. But surely that’s not possible… when he went under, the details of his deal were not even being discussed yet. “Oh, also, it’s Crowley Sheppard now, just in case anyone asks.”

“Alright” he says, sounding weaker than he wants to.

Crowley surprises him by taking his hand. “Never do that again.”

“I’ll try my best.”

And somehow, he feels better for it.

* * *

Crowley, he soon learns, has indeed more or less been camping at the hospital but somehow managed to fly under everyone’s radar. But that flies right out the window now that Dean’s awake, since he apparently needs to make sure he’s indeed on his road to recovery 24/7 – unless Dean sends him home with threats of bodily violence.

One day, after he’s done so again, Sam, who’s been visiting every day too, clears his throat and asks, “So is it something serious?”

“What?”

“You and Crowley. I’m not a fool, Dean. He barely left your side.”

He takes a deep breath. “It’s – well – yeah. It’s serious.”

Sam gives him a small smile. “I can see why you kept it a secret. He’s a bit different from what you normally go for, isn’t he?”

That’s such an understatement Dean would laugh if that wouldn’t be risking tearing his stitches. “A bit” he agrees.

“Well, we can have you two over for dinner once you are better.”

“Sounds good Sammy” he manages, realizing he underestimated how it would eb to pretend in front of his brother that he and Crowley just met in a normal way and decided to start dating. This is one of the most bizarre conversations he has ever had.

“Hello. You look much better than the last time I saw you, Winchester.”

Oh God. Bela. Crowley has been clever enough that no one in the Bureau has yet figured out what their relationship is.

And now Bela had to walk in just as Sam talked about it. “No boyfriend today?”

“I sent him home” he says evenly.

Sam leaves to get coffee and she looks at him. “You do realize you are insane?”

“Oh yes” he says.

“And is there anything I can say or do to make you come to your senses?”

“Nope.”

“You – you –“ she takes a deep breath. “You are damn lucky that shot made me realize just how close we are. Also, if he ever does anything illegal every again, I am killing him myself.”

“I’ll help you” he assures her, “As long as it’s necessary.”

* * *

“So Sam knows about us” he tells Crowley the next morning. At least he looks like a human being again. “Seems like you gave it away after all:”

“I… might have been more worried about you than I liked” he unexpectedly admits. “Gavin and Fiona send their greetings, by the way. They’ll come when you are feeling a bit better.”

The fact that he apparently talked with his son about him is strangely touching.

“Sop where do we go from here?” Dean asks. He will later claim it was the meds.

“Well” Crowley drawls. “I strongly suspect your brother will first make you come home with him, but afterwards you could move in with me.”

Again, it might be the meds, but Dean thinks it’s the best idea he’s ever heard.


	24. Chapter 24

**December – Again**

Dean wakes up slowly and reaches into the empty space next to him. Crowley must already have gotten up.

Small wonder, he decides when he opens his eyes and sees the time.

“Crowley!” he calls out a few minutes later when he enters the kitchen after hazily dressing himself, “I said not to let me sleep for too long!”

“Tonight’s the Christmas party at the Bureau. You needed the rest.”

Dean sighs. If he thought Sam’s fussing was bad, it’s nothing compared to Crowley’s. By the time Sam considered him well enough to let him out of his sight, his boyfriend seemed to have inhaled every book about nursing there was, and not only that – Dean’s been fed so many healthy meals he’s ready to scream at the next salad he sees. He does eat them – he has to keep fit after all, and get well again – but still. He’s certain one burgher a week wouldn’t kill him.

Not that Crowley agrees.

Gavin took the time yesterday when he and Fiona came over for dinner to inform him that he thinks it “sweet” for him to care so much, and so does Dean, when he’s not annoyed by it. And right now, he’s annoyed.

Until he sits down and registers what Crowley’s making for him.

Well, that and –

“Are you wearing jeans!?” After a pause he adds, “And are those pancakes?” After all, he’s always had his priorities straight.

“What astute observations we are making today, agent” Crowley drawls, leaning down to kiss him somewhat possessively.

“Come on, I didn’t know you even owned jeans!”

When Crowley isn’t naked, he’s wearing a suit. That’s been true for as long as Dean has known him, it’s basically a law of nature. Although he does look good in those pants.

“Since I am, a civilian now, I decided I could afford to dress like this at home. I’ll change for the party, of course.”

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes. Baby steps. He’ll get him to go out in this outfit eventually and make everyone they meet on the street jealous. “Whatever. So you’re sure you want to do this?”

They won’t be going to the party as an official couple yet, but it’s to show that Crowley is keeping his part of the deal and to announce that they are friends, paving the way for more in the future. Bela knows of course, but she’s kept her mouth shut. She now and then checks in to make sure Dean is still in one piece and that he really wants this, however.

“Yes, darling. Now eat your breakfast.”

“Yes, _dear_.”

Afterwards, Crowley decides Dean needs some more rest – or rather, that he should be lying down in bed not getting any rest at all. He can’t really argue with that.

* * *

“That I would see the day when Fergus Crowley socializes with us” Viktor, freshly released from the hospital, muses. “You really achieved a lot while I was away, Winchester.”

“To be honest, I think I just got lucky” Dean answers and catches Crowley’s eyes from across the room. Bela has been talking to him in a hushed voice, probably delivering a few thinly veiled threats; at least he looks bemused so Dean guesses that’s what’s been happening.

“Still – pretty sure they’re gonna give you a medal one of these days.”

He almost laughs, but manages not to. He hardly thinks he’d get a commendation for bravery if anyone every found out how he actually got Crowley to give up his evil ways. “And you, Viktor – how are you doing?”

“Oh, much better.”

“No bad blood?”

“I was not careful enough and in Crowley’s way. If I were him, I’d have done the same thing.”

That’s good, then.

He catches Crowley’s eyes again and smiles.

* * *

Sam and Sarah are by now well acquainted with Crowley – well the official version of him anyway. Sarah keeps teasing Dean about his “charming” boyfriend and Sam, while still a little wary of what he thinks might perhaps be a rich older guy taking advantage of his brother, likes discussing the news with him.

On Christmas morning, Dean wakes up thinking he’s a pretty lucky guy. Crowley soon stirs next to him. “What time I sit?”

“Past ten. Figured we could have a lie in.”

Crowley reaches for him. “How much longer do you want to – “

“Oh you know I think we could do with _a real_ long proper lie-in.”

They do.

* * *

Dean decodes he’s done with the Bureau soon after they have finally made their relationship public. He’s caught enough bad guys for several lifetimes.

* * *

Two years later, Dean walks down the stairs to find a small parcel under the tree.

“Yes.”

“You haven’t even looked inside yet” Crowley points out.

“Doesn’t matter, I am saying yes.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All that's left is to wish you a very merry Christmas, my friends!

**Twenty years later – December Once More**

It is always a mistake to look at his age and come to the conclusion that he must have slowed down somewhat.

He hasn’t.

And so, Crowley Winchester walks down the street to his house on this Christmas Eve afternoon after having delivered another bad guy into custody. At least that’s what Dean would call it; he prefers simply to call it another job well done.

They’ve not been the two best PIs the city has ever seen for the past fifteen years for nothing.

Dean greets him with an enthusiastic kiss. “Had another burglar.”

“Really?” he rolls his eyes. When will all those with a grudge learn that they are a force to be reckoned with?

“Yeah, but don’t worry – Emma got him with a baseball bat from behind, and by the time I arrived, Bela was cuffing him.”

Their twins (one of whom is named after the agent who to this day has not told a living soul that Deans and Crowley’s relationship didn’t develop until after the deal was struck but rather some time before) may only be fifteen, but they are too used to such interruptions of their daily lives to be scarred in any way. “That’s my girls.”

“That’s what I said” Dean grins. “Come on, they’re helping decorating the tree.”

Emma and Bela are indeed busy when they enter the living room, although they both rush over to hug him. “Father!”

“Hello you two. Heard you were busy.”

“It was nothing” Emma huffs. “I heard him as soon as he opened the window. Sloppy.”

“And way too clumsy” Bela adds. “He didn’t even manage to get past the kitchen.”

“So I heard.” He doesn’t bother to hide the pride in his voice.

Dean throws him a glance and grins again. “Well then, lets do this.”

When he turned fifty, Crowley would never have thought that he’d spend what some people would refer to as his old age with hi husband and two children in a quaint little house, but here they are. They decided early on in their new careers that they probably shouldn’t be showing off their wealth, although that hasn’t stopped Crowley from trying to spoil his entire family – much to Dean’s consternation when he retried to bring “discipline” into their lives as he put it.

Discipline in this case has always struck Crowley as highly overrated.

Gavin and Fiona are set to come by later with their two grandchildren. Emma and Bela have no problem being rather young aunts, and Dean loves children so much he couldn’t care less that to some, their family looks a bit strange.

Sam and Sarah and their children are coming over as well, of course. They’ve never learned how exactly Dean and Crowley met, and they never will. He can’t imagine his brother-in-law would be pleased.

When the Bureau first learned that they had got together – or at least believed it had only just happened – some of the agents were rather upset and let Dean know about it. He’s never said so, but Crowley suspects that this had to do with his decision to leave as well. He’s kept in contact with those he considers friends, however.

“Crowley? You zoning out on me?”

He realizes he has just been watching them decorate the tree and shakes his head. “Reminiscing.”

“Who knew you were going to get emotional during your old age” he teases him.

“Father’s not old” Emma and Bela promptly say, as always on their best behaviour right before they re supposed to get presents.

“Oh, trust me, I know” Dean smirks.

They both make groaning noises.

Yes, he never thought this is where he would end up.

There’s no place he’d rather be.

* * *

On Christmas morning, after everyone has drug through their presents and the girls are busy playing with their nephews and cousins, Dean and Crowley steal a moment for themselves in the kitchen.

“Another year gone, then” his husband says, smiling slightly at him.

“I hope you don’t consider it a year wasted.”

“What? With you and the kids? Never”. Dean kisses him. “Although I have to say, when I look back… you do have a weird way of wooing a guy.”

“Good I never have to do it again, then:”

Dean smiles, those eyes Crowley already knows will never change no matter how old he gets sparkling. “You better not.”

“Or what?”

“You know, I still have quite a few contacts in the Bureau…”

“As if you couldn’t handle this yourself.”

Dean laughs then, happy and carefree. “Guess so.” He takes his hand and squeezes it. “Really, all things considered, I’d say we got damn lucky.”

Yes. They did indeed get bloody lucky, Crowley decides. Maybe undeservedly, at least when it comes to him, but why should he care about that?

He has everything he could ever want.


End file.
